One reason Paul caught more fish than anyone else was that he had his flies in the water more than anyone else. "Brother," he would say, "there are no flying fish in Montana. Out here, you can't catch fish with your flies in the air."
~Norman Maclean

Friday, November 14, 2008

Didn't Happen This Year

Generally October-November provides a window of opportunity to catch very large, fat and sassy rainbows that run into the headwaters of a local waterway from the reservoir downstream. Last year saw my father and I into 25-27" fish, most weighing better than 5 lbs from mid October through mid November. This year, nothing of the kind. I tried the same tactics on the same stretch of river at the same time of the year 3 times this year and never found anything bigger than 20 inches. My only guess is that the reservoir was very high this year versus low over the past few years. I always thought it was the run of kokanees into the spawning gravel that brought the large fish into these waters, now I am thinking it is fish running from the heating temperatures in the lake late in the summer into the constant mild temperatures of the spring fed river.

Now I have a couple of more opportunities before the end of the season on this stretch, but I think I will pass. The SF is very low now and aggressive, randy browns in skinny water are calling to me. Last year the browns disappeared from the skinny water shortly after Thanksgivings so I need to get out while the getting is good.

My big rainbow run of late fall just didn't happen this year. Now I am sad.

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About Me: Jabberwock

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.